I Want to Hold Your Hand
by aruyo
Summary: Aomine doesn't mind working for the smaller victories, annoying though it may be. Especially when it comes to Kuroko Tetsuya. Teiko days. Fluff.


Kuroko's hands looked small.

It was one of those things that Aomine had come to notice about him, after several long months of training had finally evolved into a whole year. And being as they were now official teammates, it was Aomine's duty to notice things about him. He had seen those hands pass the ball over enough times to recognize that they were, in a word, small. Maybe just a little feminine too, but mostly just small. Of course, this was only natural, considering he was the shortest of all of them. Almost everyone on the court towered over him, both in terms of height and presence.

It would always lead to downfall for their opponents, because Kuroko was very easily underestimated, but still. Aomine very seldom watched him from the bench (he and Kuroko were a team, after all) but when he did, he was always struck by how tiny the boy was. It was a feat in itself that Kuroko managed to play a contact sport with at least a dozen other people at least ten centimeters taller than him without sustaining any major injuries.

In reality, Kuroko was of average size for a Japanese male his age. However, the rest of the team was so tall that, in comparison, he was certainly nothing impressive. The only person who even came close to his height was Akashi, but that guy was intimidating enough to more than make up for it. Kuroko always just seemed _tiny_. Of course, he didn't much appreciate that sentiment being voiced. Still, it was the kind of thing that Aomine thought about after a game, when his drowsy thoughts were allowed to drift. It was what he was thinking about right now, for example.

They had just gotten through trouncing another nameless high school that Aomine hadn't cared enough about to research properly. The unidentified team had only scored a single basket, and even then, it was mostly for lack of trying on Teikou's part. It was the kind of game that made Aomine tired, not necessarily because he actually put in any effort, but mostly because it was so godamn _boring_. He had barely broken a sweat, and from the looks of it, his teammates were in the same boat. All in all, no matter how the papers raved about this match tomorrow, it was just another game to them.

"Good work today," Akashi said as they entered the locker room. As was often the case, it was hard to tell if he was sincere, or if he was just being a jackass. Given that none of them had really gone all out- or even _tried_, for that matter- Aomine was betting on the latter. But they all gave a small nod in reply anyways, because ignoring Akashi Seijuro was a good way of making sure you'd get horrendously mutilated by a pair of scissors in one way or another by the end of the day. Even if the guy was just messing with you, there was never any way to be absolutely sure. It was pretty fucked up.

After he sat down on the bench, Aomine didn't even blink when he noticed the towel being thrown his way out of the corner of his eye. As was usual for anything Kuroko threw at him, he caught it was perfect ease. They had practiced so often already that it was second-nature to him. He patted what little perspiration had collected on his collar and sides, and then let it drop to the floor. Kuroko sat next to him and did the same, and when Aomine decided on an off chance to clasp a hand on his partner's head, he had the same thought- this kid is _small_.

Kuroko batted the hand away after he finished patting himself dry, turning to give Aomine an exasperated look. (Or as close to it as his usually expressionless face would allow.)

"Please stop treating me like your kid brother. We're the same age."

"You sure about that?" Aomine retorted playfully. Before Kuroko could reply, he was tackled to the ground in a headlock. They wrestled playfully for several minutes, with Aomine having the clear upper hand as always, until Midorima walked by and pulled them apart. Aomine was a little more than annoyed by the disturbance to their epic match, but Kuroko looked more annoyed at the fact that his uniform and hair were now in complete disarray. It wasn't that he was vain- it was pretty obvious even to Aomine that he looked ridiculous. It was kind of hilarious, actually.

"We're heading home in thirty minutes," Midorima said, barely disguising a yawn. The rest of the team was already filing out. Kuroko nodded his understanding, whereas Aomine gave a vague flick of the wrist to indicate that he had heard. His errand done, Midorima left to go do whatever the hell it was he did after a match. Consult his horoscope to try to bend the day's events into having some sort of astrological significance or whatever. Aomine found it very, very hard to care. He turned back to Kuroko, who was now busily attempting to get his hair back into a shape that might be considered normal. Attempting, and failing.

"You might as well ask Momoi for one of her cute little hairbrushes," he said, grinning. Kuroko's eyes narrowed, and he looked as if he were tempted to throw something, but they both knew that Aomine would just catch it. He settled for a long-suffering sigh, which, this being Kuroko, only sounded like a small exhale. After a little more struggling, he finally gave up trying to tame the wayward pieces of hair sticking up from his head. It was a little better than it had been a couple minutes ago, but he still looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Aomine rolled his eyes, leaning over to give it a try.

"I told you," Kuroko muttered as Aomine valiantly attempted to save him from bedhead. "I'm not your little brother. You don't have to keep doing this sort of thing."

"Gee, sorry for trying to help," Aomine replied absently, determined to smooth down the stubborn strands of upright hair. Damn, this kid had the weirdest hair on the planet. To make it worse, he was pretty sure that he was only making it look _weirder_. After a few more minutes of pointless hostilities, he threw up his hands in surrender. It was a thankless, impossible job.

Looking relieved, Kuroko walked over to his locker and pulled out his street clothes. Without hesitating for even a moment, he tugged his jersey off, letting it fall silently to the floor. Aomine was unphased; this wasn't unusual at all. The entire team was used to changing in front of each other, and any latent embarrassment they might have had was long gone by now, erased by months of familiarity. He observed Kuroko tug a fresh shirt over his pale, slender back, completely unsurprised and yet somewhat interested by the sight. Kuroko had always been that small, right? Of course. People didn't just shrink.

He turned away just as Kuroko was about to change into his jeans, opting to put his own clothes on. Everything was stuffed at the bottom of his locker, unfolded and probably wrinkled, but what did it matter? It wasn't as though public transportation was full of fashionistas and aristocrats. Discarding his jersey and shorts, he tugged on the usual jeans, long-sleeve shirt, and jacket. It was wintertime, with temperatures dipping into the thirties and dropping by the day. Aomine prided himself on being one of the stronger members on the team, but even he had a very low tolerance for cold.

Once he finished slipping on his sneakers once more, he turned to see that Kuroko was already done, his bag strung over his shoulder and that same blank expression on his face. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, leaning over to snatch his own bag and uniform from the floor. Once both were tucked securely under his arm, he checked his watch. "We've still got twenty minutes."

"We could take a walk," Kuroko suggested. Aomine was ahead of him already, walking with long, lax steps towards the door. Kuroko followed suit, his stride not quite matching that of his companion's, but Aomine, in one of those rare expression of magnanimity he always reserved for Kuroko and Momoi, slowed down just a little bit so he could catch up. They both wound up walking towards the east exit of the building, which then led them into some shopping district that Aomine didn't recognize whatsoever. Kuroko did, though, so he was safe in the knowledge that Akashi wouldn't be horribly maiming them in their sleep tonight for missing the train. That was always a nice reassurance.

"It's fucking cold out," he found himself mumbling, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. Kuroko's smaller hands dangled limply at his side, and he didn't seem at all bothered by the temperature. He just shrugged at the comment, watching the falling snow collect on rooftops and street curbs. His eyes, ever-observant, seem to drink in every detail, and it's weird, because even though Akashi was the one with the Emperor's Eyes, and even though Momoi was supposed to be the best of the best at analyzing things, Aomine suddenly got the impression that Kuroko saw a lot more than he let on.

Regardless, he still seemed oblivious to some glaring issues. For example, the fact that the common cold was an actual thing seemed to fly right over his head. His hands and neck were exposed to the biting wind, and while Aomine detested the idea of even removing one finger from his pocket, Kuroko seemed completely unphased even with just his light sweater. To put it graciously, Aomine found this irritating.

"Give me your hands."

Kuroko blinked. "Come again?"

Aomine, who had never really been one for repeating himself, grimaced. "I _said_, give me your hands."

"Why?"

Aomine grit his teeth. This was proving to be more trouble than it was worth. By way of reply, he let out a long-suffering sigh, watching his breath turn into vapor in the cold night air. "_Because_, idiot, it's freezing out here, and you were too stupid to bring a coat with pockets." Good lord, weren't quiet people supposed to be _smart_? Was it all that hard to understand?

Kuroko seemed to consider this information, staring down at his hands. "I guess they are a bit cold," he said after a prolonged pause, analyzing them as if he had just figured out the secret of the universe. Honest to god, Aomine didn't even want to know how this kid got by without him. Without speaking, he leaned over and grasped both of those tiny hands in his own. Surprise surprise, they were ice cold.

"You're so stupid, Tetsu," he said, casting his gaze to the side. Kuroko's eyes narrowed archly.

"I believe that this is an example of the pot calling the kettle black."

"No," Aomine replied. "You don't get it. Your stupidity transcends basic human understanding. It's quantum stupidity. Like a black hole that devours everything. That's how fucking senseless you can be."

His companion hummed disinterestedly in reply, thankfully not withdrawing his hands from Aomine's grip. Sure, it probably looked weird, two boys randomly holding hands in the middle of a busy street, and Aomine was pretty sure that they only had five minutes to get back to the train station, but this was… nice. Relaxing. Even if Kuroko was a huge space case, and even if it was damn frustrating to deal with sometimes, he'd be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy moments like these. With basketball becoming less and less of a prospect in his life to look forward to, he _needed_ these moments.

"Geez, it's a miracle you haven't dropped dead from your own carelessness yet," Aomine muttered.

"They don't call us the Generation of Miracles for nothing," Kuroko answered back.

Aomine snorted. "Yeah, well, I'd say it's mostly thanks to me that you haven't died by falling victim to your own lethal stupidity yet. So, you're welcome."

"Thank you, Aomine-kun." Aomine couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but also couldn't bring himself to care one way or the other.

"Yeah, yeah. I just give and fucking give. You'd be completely lost without me. For your sake, I can only hope that you don't end up leaving on some grand old fucking adventure."

"Don't worry, Aomine-kun," Kuroko sighed, his patience apparently wearing thin. "I'm not going anywhere."

"For your sake, I hope so."

* * *

**I pretty much have completely given up trying to settle in one fandom. I claim them all. **

**I am the village bicycle of fanfiction. It is me. **


End file.
